


Sweet dreams are made of this

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Cormoran confides to Nick, Cormoran has some dodgy plumbing, F/M, Robin confides to Ilsa, Robin is having an erotic dream, Robin is horny, Robin is very considerate of Strike, Robin takes a nap, Shower gel, What the hell!, damn the alarm clock, eau de Strike, excuse to catch Cormoran shaving, horny horny horny, hot summer in the city, it's on Strike's bed!, olfactory overload, she needs to make sure he won't slip!, tobacco, you can imagine the next bit!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: So, I actually wrote this last year during an incredibly hot bout of weather in the UK. I forgot all about it and then found it in my folder....I asked Lula if it was mine or hers that she'd sent for a preview.....and turns out I wrote it!So, I've done a bit of editing and sorted out chapters.the basis is that Robin is newly single and having a recurring horny dream, initially involving a mystery man which she tells Ilsa about. She quickly discovers the identify of the mystery man....I wonder who it could possibly be?!?!The alarm clock keeps preventing her from reaching any kind of satisfactory conclusion, and then Strike's water packs up....cue for Robin to stumble across him shaving and partially clad in the office.It goes from there!I've used E rating for the graphic language, although there isn't really any graphic description of the eventual bed action (I KNOW?! That's why I second guessed if I wrote it if I'm honest!!!)





	1. "God I need a shag!"

**Author's Note:**

> In my imagination the girls always meet up and eat in Tuttons in Covent Garden......as Lula and I have done when we popped to the Big Smoke!

Robin and Ilsa were deep in whispered conversation at the small table in Covent Garden.   
It was a busy Saturday, the sun was shining and they had nabbed a table outside.

“So you have no idea who it is?” Ilsa asked, sipping her glass of wine.  
Robin shook her head and puffed out her cheeks, “Not a clue, it’s just really erotic. I can almost feel what he’s doing….even though it’s a dream!”

Ilsa pointed her fork at Robin, “If you haven’t seen, how are you absolutely sure it’s male?”

“Well, because I grab his cock….and he feels hairy…..no it’s definitely a male. Problem is I always wake up before things get really good….before I get to….you know…..satisfaction!”

Ilsa pulled a face of commiseration across the table, “Oh you poor thing! So how long has this been going on?”  
Robin rolled her eyes, “Last night was the fourth night on the run! I tell you….I’m so bloody horny!”

They ate a few mouthfuls of their brunch each before Ilsa spoke again, “It’s probably your body or mind’s way of dealing with your recent freedom. You know….now that it is final between you and Matthew. I mean, I know you haven’t been together in a long while, but the papers were official last week.”

Robin nodded, “I thought the same, it seems too much of a coincidence for the two not to be linked. It definitely isn’t Matthew though….like I said….hairy….and it’s not his cock!”  
Ilsa raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, “….in a good way?”  
“Oh very much so!” Robin giggled. “I just wish I didn’t keep waking up when my alarm goes off…..whoever he is, he’s been doing something completely amazing…..down there….then the alarm goes off before I’m quite finished!”

Ilsa shook her head, “God…..not exactly the kind of thing that’s instantly improved by a bowl of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes then?” and she bit down somewhat savagely on her fruited bagel.

“Let’s change the subject anyway. Have you got something in mind, outfit wise?” Robin asked, and the pair finished their meal, paid the bill and set off to fulfil their challenge of finding a decent navy or black trouser suit with a leg length that would fit Ilsa’s frame and budget – although the final element wasn’t too difficult as Ilsa’s work wardrobe budget was significantly higher than Robin’s!

Saturday night, Robin finished a chapter of her latest book – a weighty tome on Psychological Research which she found simultaneously fascinating and heavy going.  
She flicked off her bedside lamp and settled back against her pillows, splaying her bare legs across the mattress to find a cooler section beneath her light duvet.   
It had been a particularly warm June and she frequently found herself throwing off the covers.

She woke on Sunday morning as her alarm went off, she was panting and unsatisfied….again!

“How the fuck can he still not have finished me off when I’ve had an hour longer asleep!?” she mumbled frustratedly as she slipped out of bed and padded through to the tiny kitchen area of her bijou flat still wearing the knickers and vest top she had slept in.

She flicked on the kettle and closed her eyes, trying to recall any features of the mysterious man in her recurring dream.   
She really couldn’t see his face, or hear him in any way now that she’d woken up, but every night she felt like she was being teased, stroked, sucked and kissed into oblivion.  
Just as she was starting to recognise the familiar and ridiculously arousing moistness between her legs appearing……again!......the kettle flicked off and brought her back to reality.

Sunday night into Monday morning was almost like Groundhog Day.  
Robin rolled over in bed groaning and clasping her hand between her legs at the realisation that her morning alarm had yet again sounded and prevented her from achieving any kind of satisfaction from her raunchy dream guy.  
“God I need a shag!” she murmured as she flicked on the shower and chucked her used night attire into the laundry basket.

Her journey into the Denmark Street office she shared with her business partner was uneventful.   
He had already messaged her to say that he would be in later having taken the opportunity to do a bit of surveillance on one of their marks.

She opened up the office and took a large breath of the familiar and now soothing aroma of stale tobacco.   
Firing up her computer she quickly dealt with several new enquiries and slotted a few appointments into the weekly calendar.  
The images and sensations from her increasingly erotic ‘Mystery Man’ dream ran through her mind….last night a new twist had been added when whoever he was had spoken to her – she couldn’t recall what was said….or even how it was said….she just knew that she had replied with “It’s all for you!” in the most sexually alluring manner.

At around 10.30 she wandered across to the kitchenette area and started to make tea.   
She had received a text from Strike to say he was on his way back and was gasping for a pee and a cuppa in that order!   
It had made her smile that they could be more candid with each other now…..God, on the last stake out they’d done she’d even continued talking to him through the Land Rover window when he’d relieved himself against an obliging tree!

She had just poured water into her mug and was reaching the milk out of the fridge when the door to the office was opened and she heard the familiar rumbling baritone of Cormoran,  
“God Robin, please say I can have that!”

Robin turned as she removed the lid of the milk, stifled a squeak and inadvertently squeezed the milk bottle, releasing a milky squirt across the counter top.

“You OK? I did message you that I was on my way back. Sorry if I shocked you.”

Robin turned back, flustered as she mopped up the spillage with kitchen roll, and tried to prevent the blush that was forming and deepening across her cheeks.  
“No, It’s fine….I got your text….I was just a little side-tracked. Here, your need is greater than mine, I’ll make another,” and she passed across the tea, leaving the spoon in so that he could stab at the bag to achieve his preferred shade of teak.  
Robin poured herself a fresh mug and slowly stirred the liquid.

Oh Fuck!

She now knew who the Mystery Man was…..that announcement from Cormoran about the tea had clicked the fuzzy, half audible image into complete clarity in her brain and memory.

Fuck!

She was having the most erotic dream of her life over Cormoran!


	2. I need a damn decent ravishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, now that she knows her dream involves Cormoran (of course it did!) maybe it will stop? Or maybe the fact that Strike's water has packed up and he's shaving in the office will make things worse  
Febreeze is a popular air freshener brand in Europe in case that doesn't make sense.  
I also have no idea what Cormoran said to her when smoking out the window that she missed and he then said was not important.......it can be whatever you want it to be!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to Queen Victoria by the way is a real one - after marrying Albert she wrote in her diaries at great length and detail of how glorious it was to watch him shaving because it was so manly and masculine and private! She was a naughty minx!

She tried to ignore that fact that he was in the adjoining room – difficult when he had lit up a cigarette and the wafts of smoke were drifting across her olfactory senses, and made even more difficult when he made a phone call – clearly to Wardle about the case he was trying to get the police to take more seriously.   
His agitated voice travelled even more so than his regular tones and it was almost impossible to blot him out.  
Robin drank her tea and swiped up her phone.   
There was a message from Ilsa that she hadn’t responded to asking whether there was any further information or update on ‘Dream Guy’……oh there was an update alright!

“I’m nipping out, gonna see if I can catch Puffa Jacket with that woman again.”  
Strike shouted back an absent minded “Yep!” as reply before continuing his rant to Wardle.

Robin breathed in the ‘fresh’ inner London aromas which seemed to act as Febreeze to the heady scent overload of Strike and the office.

She wasn’t exactly lying – she would try and catch one of their marks, called Puffa Jacket and see if he was meeting up with one of a couple of women he was not supposed to be.   
However she also considered whether she could admit to Ilsa what she now knew.  
Maybe now that she had solved the mystery of who he was it would stop!  
….she wasn’t completely sure that she wanted it to stop…..especially now that she considered it was Strike who had been treating her so deliciously….albeit only in dream-form!

The mental image of her hand flexing around….well…..everything…..was tantalisingly seductive now that she could potentially add a face.

She shook her head and mentally slapped her own face – Get a grip Robin!   
He’s your work colleague!

And it doesn’t matter that you have been fantasising about his hands for a few weeks…..that’s irrelevant.

And it doesn’t matter that you have been enjoying every friendly hug and jokey nudge from him…..AND that you’ve been imagining what might happen after most of those hugs and nudges…..AND the fact that you can still remember the feeling of his lips pressing briefly and accidentally against yours in a hospital car park several months ago!

Oh fuck!

Strike sent her a text mid afternoon – he was whacked and going to lock up early to catch up on sleep after his early start.   
He told her not to come back after trailing Puffa Jacket unless she had to.

Robin settled into bed as usual.  
The heat in her flat was rising and it had been a day where there was no breeze to cool things down.   
She lay above her covers in just her fresh pyjama shorts and pale aqua coloured vest and settled against her pillows, turning them to locate a cool spot.

Deep within her REM sleep she started to picture the now familiar start of her fantasy……..a warm, obviously masculine body crawling up the bed above her, pressing her wrists gently above her head, next to her face, trailing soft, wet kisses along her jawline and neck, moving down to tease against her bare breasts, gently easing apart her legs.   
Within her dreamlike state she could feel herself whimpering and twisting, trying to gain some sort of pressure to rub herself against….she always found slight relief, but the action heightened her state.

The manly mouth nipped and bit gently at her shoulders, down her chest and breasts and skittered across her firm stomach before teasing around the soft, fair curls nestled between her legs.   
On previous occasions she had been aware in her dream of his breath on her inner thighs, and now that she knew it was Strike she found that she could sense a bristling friction from his beard there too. 

Easing her legs wider caused a now familiar throaty growl, “God Robin, I hope this is all for me” she heard him drawl, before she felt……she ACTUALLY FELT……his hot, tongue caress against her seam, slipping between her wet lips, toying around her opening, delving inside, moving to flick against her clit.   
She felt herself groaning in delight; she was deriving pleasure from moving against the firm, insistent mouth of Strike – fuck…..now that she knew it was him it was so obviously HIM…..how had she not twigged in the previous nights?

As always, he dragged himself back up her body before finishing her, and this was the point where her hands began to wander – across his darkly haired chest, down past the slight softness of his belly, around and down his back, forcing a deep growl from his lips as she dug in her nails. 

Sobbing slightly she brought her right hand around to grasp the firm erection pressing against her thigh and she moaned, angling him between her legs.

God…….. his lips founds hers, his tongue delving inside her mouth, his hips pressed forwards….  
…….and she sat bolt upright, panting and squirming as the piercing screech of her alarm woke her….AGAIN!

“Oh you noisy little bastard fucker!” she addressed the small, grey clock as she thumped the off switch.

She sank back against her pillows…..unsatisfied………horny…..and with decidedly soggy shorts!

Robin pouted out her lips and rolled over in bed, groaning and feeling an almost aching tingle between her legs.  
It was no good, she had to do something……so she dipped her hand beneath the fabric of her shorts and finished off what ‘Dream Corm’ had started.

She showered and got her shit together before heading to the office, grabbing their usual coffees and a couple of cinnamon whirls, she tucked the post under her arm and thumped up the stairs, taking a deep breath before entering the office – she had to somehow face Strike in the most normal and unaffected way possible!

Shit!

He was standing at the kitchenette sink, towel draped across his shoulder, shirt clearly unfastened and hanging loosely outside his trousers as he prodded at parts of his cheeks and neck with a razor.

Oh yeah…..perfectly normal!

“Sorry, won’t be a minute, my water pressure has gone to pot up there,” and he flicked around slightly, flashing a small section of that darkly furred chest as he indicated up towards his flat. 

Robin realised that her mouth had fallen open slightly as she formed words, “No problem. Have you sorted out a plumber?”

He nodded fractionally, stretching his chin up and to the left as he scratched at his neck with the blade, “Got one coming tomorrow, so I’ll have to make do down here for today!”

Robin stifled a small sob….what was so ridiculously attractive about watching a man shave?   
Maybe Queen Victoria was right when she wrote in her diary about watching Albert at his morning ablutions!

He finished off and rinsed out the sink, dabbing at the parts of his face he had scoured clear of bristling hair and fastening a couple of the lower buttons on his shirt.  
“Right! All done, we should be able to have tea without an aftertaste of Gillette!” he announced and picked up his toiletries before sauntering into his own office where he presumably dealt with fastening the rest of his shirt and tucked it into his trousers, because when he came back through he looked like normal work Cormoran again.

“What’ve we got today?” he asked as he thumbed through the various bills, circulars and client mail.

Robin dragged her eyes away from his neck and his shirt; trying not to visualise the swarthy hair and skin beneath….or was she TRYING to visualise it?!   
Oh Fuck!  
“Erm…..I’m out meeting a friend Bond Girl who says she’s willing to tell us some information, you’re tailing Roger Rucksack and we have a meeting with Mrs Harvey planned….we’re going to show her what we have…..that reminds me, I need to pick up more tissues!” she scribbled quickly on a post-it note.

And so the day went along…..as planned…..nothing of note except that Robin had to keep shaking her head clear of images involving her dream, and now added flickers of the shaving scene she’d been privy to earlier.

Mrs Harvey, as predicted did not take the information they had gathered well, and after forty minutes had managed to compose herself enough to take the brown envelope they provided and leave the office, having paid her bill in full.

Strike puffed out his cheeks behind his desk as Robin returned from helping their now ex-client to the door,  
“That never gets any easier!” he mumbled, fiddling with his cigarettes and lighting one up.   
He automatically opened the small window so that he could puff most of the smoke out of it rather than force Robin to inhale it.  
Robin nodded and absently stared at his muscular biceps under his shirt.   
The way his arm was positioned, resting on the window ledge, holding the lit cigarette gave extra definition to his already broad frame.  
He was now looking at her slightly bemused.

Shit!   
Had he asked her something?!  
“Sorry, what did you say? I was just thinking about women like Mrs Harvey….you know, when was the last one before her…..” she cleared her throat and flexed her neck, “What did you say?”

Strike shook his head, “Doesn’t matter…..just……..nah, not important. OK….you get off, I’ll finish up here,” he gesticulated with his large hand.

Robin made herself a stir fry, ate it watching the latest episode of a truly dreadful ‘whodunit’ drama, which she was slightly addicted to and tried to reconcile her distraction for her work colleague.  
OK, so he was showing up in her dreams……dreams were notorious for meaning the opposite of what they portrayed….so clearly she didn’t actually want him to ravish her in bed…….

……ohhhh, but she diiiiiiiid!

She wanted a damn decent ravishing!

It was ages since she’d had even a flicker of sexual action and she was as horny as hell. 

She glanced at the time; it was barely ten….too early for bed?  
She’d had a few busy days…..she’d walked a lot and had been emotionally drained after Mrs Harvey……a decent night’s sleep would be highly useful.

She had a cooling shower and put on yet another fresh pair of shortie pyjamas.   
She had decided to dump her duvet, the weather had remained sunny and warm, and was threatening to get even hotter towards the weekend. She’d replaced it with a plain, cotton flat sheet which felt cool and light as she slid herself beneath it.  
Robin drifted off to sleep.

The piercing screech of her alarm woke her again.

She was panting, sweating, blushing……..and rubbing at her shorts.  
“Oh Jesus! What the hell?!” she muttered outloud, her mind whirring at the vivid memories from her dream.

Things had taken a very definite turn for the kinky last night…..but she’d still woken before achieving any kind of satisfaction.

She glanced at the time and got up, she’d get into work…..work would take her mind off her sexual frustration…..and she was meeting Ilsa for lunch……and if she happened to get into the office a little earlier than normal and found Strike using the kitchenette sink again….well…..so be it!


	3. A stand up flannelling at the sink!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter with Robin catching Strike in the middle of his ablutions again.

Strike glanced up from cleaning his teeth to his watch which was on the counter top beside him.   
He’d heard the downstairs door and could now hear the definite, familiar tread of Robin coming up the stairs.   
She was early….and he was still in the process of washing and getting himself ready. He hadn’t slipped on his shirt yet – that was resting on Robin’s desk – as he wanted to let himself dry off a little first.   
One of the negative aspects of being so naturally hairy was that it took ages to dry, even after a relatively sober stand up flannelling at a sink!   
Oh well!   
He spat foam and rinsed it down the sink as he cleaned off his toothbrush as the office door opened and a cheery, pink cheeked, slightly sweating Robin entered.

It was already warm in London and Robin’s exertion from the tube and up the stairs had resulted in a rather deliciously shimmering sheen to her cheeks and upper lip.  
Cormoran inadvertently licked his own, telling himself it was just for the cooling taste of spearmint toothpaste and no other reason at all!

“Oh! Gosh….sorry, erm….I’ll nip down and…..do something for a bit. I forgot about the water thing,” she lied, making as if to leave.  
Cormoran waved at her, “It’s OK, I’ll just take this through there, I’ve finished at the sink,” and he picked up his pale blue shirt and crossed in front of her in order to reach the relative privacy of his office.

Robin inhaled as he passed, he exuded a lovely, fresh scent mixed with a waft of tobacco from the two cigarettes she knew he would have already smoked as part of his ‘breakfast’.

Robin pouted slightly; so he didn’t actually shave every day then – he’d only picked up his washcloth, shower gel, toothbrush and paste as well as his towel….she was a detective, she noticed these things now; even when she wasn’t meaning to!

She allowed herself the slight distraction of imagining him with soapy cheeks again as she filled and flicked on the kettle.

“You making tea?” came the deep voice from behind the thin partition wall.

“Yep. You want any?”

“Bung it in a travel cup. I’m off trailing Puffa Jacket again….I want to see if I can get enough before it starts sweltering,” he explained, making his way back through to join her as she rummaged in the small cupboard for one of the lidded travel mugs they now kept around.

“It’s not going to be any nicer in here come midday!” Robin sighed, thinking how muggy the offices already felt.

Strike flexed his head in a ‘not a lot we can do about that’ kind of manner, “I know, but at least if it’s boiling in here I can sweat gently behind my desk rather than sweat profusely whilst trailing after a guy half my age!” he raised a single eyebrow and Robin turned away to face the mugs……that image had appeared in her dream last night….and she was struggling not to blush at the memory of what had provoked it.

It was a dream!  
Just a dream!

He’d never do that……not to me……maybe he has done it?......maybe he wouldn’t consider it kinky?.......she was drifting into her own inner monologue and only snapped out of it thanks to the kettle flicking off.

“OK! I’ll get all the windows open.”

“Oh, and keep your ears out for the plumber…..he couldn’t specify a time, just said sometime today!” he was making his way between his office and the kitchen area, grabbing his phone, notepad, keys and wallet as he spoke.

“There you go,” she handed him his drink and sank down on her desk chair as he gave a barked, “Cheers!” and headed out.

Robin puffed out her cheeks, spun twice in her chair and then made her way through to his office to start opening the small windows as wide as possible.   
He’d left his washcloth and shower gel on the side of his desk.   
Rather ridiculously she flipped the lid on the bottle and inhaled….it was a rather generic, fresh smelling product….and yet somehow it didn’t provoke anywhere near the same reaction from her as it had when he’d walked past her after using it on his skin.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror next to his door…..she was a full grown woman sniffing at a shower gel bottle belonging to a man she fancied……”Pathetic!” she said pointedly to her reflection, replacing the bottle and taking out her frustration of the metal window handle instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a second chapter today too 'cos this is just a short one.


	4. I'm fagging out for a shower!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin catches Ilsa up with the events of her dream and lets slip who the dark, hairy 'dream guy' is!  
Corm's water gets sorted out and Robin's imagination runs a bit wild....which leaks over into her dream....again!

A few hours later, Strike had returned and Robin was sat opposite Ilsa in a beautifully air conditioned Italian chain restaurant where they were having lunch together.  
“So, how’s the dream going? Have you subconsciously got laid yet?” she asked having passed the menus back to the waiter.

Robin shook her head and her expression answered for her, “It took a decided turn last night………kinky!” Robin hissed the final word and pulled a face.  
Ilsa’s eyes widened, “Oooh, how kinky are we talking? Full on gimp mask, or just a bit of mild botty slapping between the naughty Doctor and his bad, bad nurse?” she asked, ripping off a piece of warm bread and shoving it into her mouth with possibly more enthusiasm than a baked good alone should instill.

“Somewhere inbetween! He tied me up…….wrists tied to my headboard. And it was MY headboard….my actual one, not like a sort of the same but not quite!” Robin explained, her friend’s full attention well and truly held.

“Wow! And yet you still didn’t……you know…..get any?!” Ilsa quizzed, devouring more bread than she possibly ought to, but enjoying ripping it apart with her hands.

Robin shook her head, “Bloody alarm clock ….it always wakes me up…..I even went to bed ridiculously early to see if I could fool it,” Ilsa raised her eyebrow for a response, “Nah…..it just went on longer and got kinkier!”

“You really need to get laid!” Ilsa stated, regarding her frustrated friend. “There’s an Ann Summers round the corner…..what about if we got you a new little buzzing buddy….do you reckon that might do the trick?”

Robin giggled.   
She enjoyed her friendship with Ilsa – she tackled subjects with a head on ‘practical’ approach that was refreshing and amusing.

“Maybe! Trouble is I’ve seen his face now….oh shit, I wasn’t going to tell you that!” Robin slumped and bit her lip as her friend’s hands made delighted little seal claps.

“So…..dark? Is it a famous chap? Someone you know? Oh…or is he not good…..has it weirded you out?” Ilsa asked pausing to thank the server as their meals were delivered.

Robin took a mouthful of penne before answering.

“Weirded out is definitely the right description….but not for the reason you’re thinking! And yes I know him…….and so do you!” she explained as Ilsa blew on a forkful of tagliatelle. 

She swallowed the mouthful as quickly as she could, “Who? Who do we both know? Barclay? Not Nick…..you said dark and hairy…….dark and hairy…….Robin….dark…….and hairy….”

Robin was banging her forehead repeatedly against the side of the table, earning her a few alarmed glances from the waiter.

“Are you telling me Mystery Sex Dream Man is Corm?”

Robin nodded meekly, “I fancy him Ilsa! I sniffed his shower gel this morning….long story, don’t ask…….and I am fucking desperate for him to shag me……in my dream obviously…..because in reality it just won’t ever happen!” she stabbed at a meatball and chewed aggressively.

Ilsa however was smiling like a Cheshire Cat, “Why can’t it? You’re both single….he definitely likes you……and apparently you like him….say what you want about it being a dream, but sniffing his shower gel Robin….bloody hell!”

“I know! I’m pathetic! I’m just horny, and it’s hot, that’s all it is…..I’ll be fine…..I reckon if I can just get this dream to a ……a…….” she stumbled to find the right phrase.  
Ilsa interjected, “……shall we call it a ‘satisfactory conclusion’?”  
Robin pounced on the statement, “Exactly! I think it’ll all calm down…..maybe we just need a good downpour, clear this muggy air….cool things down in more ways than one!”

“So I take it you are currently taking things into your own hands,” Ilsa remarked candidly.  
Robin nodded and sobbed, “I’m scrubbing at it like I’m playing Fruit Ninja, Ilsa!”

Unabashed, Ilsa continued to fork pasta into her mouth.   
Her intelligent mind was already working on what she could do next.   
She and Nick had already discussed Robin and Strike.   
They both agreed that they would make a great couple; they were already good for each other in so many ways; to add a romantic element to it was surely going to be positive?   
Nick had already mentioned it a few times when he’d gone out with his old friend, waiting until Oggy had supped several pints before broaching the subject – he knew his friend was notoriously tight lipped about his love life (not his sex life….that was a different thing entirely!) but when he was in love….that was a different kettle of fish entirely.  
Corm had mused upon the fact that Robin was undeniably attractive; she was fun; she was intelligent and independent, which was very much his thing; and unlike Charlotte she didn’t seem demented…..he just repeatedly voiced concern over the fact that they worked so well together, and he ran the risk of jeopardising all that if he pushed things further – Christ, even if she fancied him; they were only one argument away from a toxic office relationship!

So now Ilsa had a little tit bit of information to throw into the mix!

Lunch over, the two women said their goodbyes and left the cool oasis of the restaurant.  
Robin headed back towards the office and could hear noises from up in Strike’s flat – presumably the plumber based on the masculine voices and banging.

Robin returned to her usual seat, behind her desk and finished off some replies to emails, enquiries to Town Halls for various certificates (all of which could now be completed online) and printing off a couple of final billing invoices.

Two pairs of feet could be heard on the stairs a little before 5pm and Robin could hear Cormoran giving his thanks before he came and popped his head around the door,  
“You alright? Ilsa OK?” he enquired.   
Robin gave a smile and a nod.   
“Listen, my water is back on and I’m fagging out for a shower, so unless you have something crucial to do you might as well knock off.”

Robin tried not to let her mind wander to a naked Strike covered in soapy bubbles, running in rivulets across his broad shoulders and down his backside - covered in that delicious smelling shower gel – and then with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Oh Lord!

She really needed to start keeping a pin handy so she could stab her thigh and create some sort of negative learned behaviour towards naughty thoughts about him!

She gathered her things and shouted up that she would see him in the morning and made her way home.   
Wednesday was her pilates class, so that helped to focus her mind slightly for an hour or so, and it also tired her physically, so maybe she would just sleep tonight?

She did sleep.

She woke again with her alarm, decidedly moist and grasping at her crotch and breast……the kinkiness of the previous evening had developed further and this time it was her turn to tie him to the bedpost, and she’d slathered foamy suds all over him…..and they must have been edible because she could swear blind she sucked him off too!

A bowl of cereal covered in strawberries and almond milk seemed very tame by comparison.


	5. ...just stay in bed R'bin....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squidgy shoes in the office hallway makes Robin panic and FORCE HERSELF to investigate whether Corm's flat is safe, or whether he risks slipping due to leaking pipes.....  
Strike is in bed.....dreaming!!!!!

It was another sweltering day, she dressed in a loose fitting, lined vest top over her taupe coloured cropped pants and tan sandals, showing off neatly painted, coral toenails.  
When she reached the offices she transferred the cup holder containing two chilled mango smoothies to her other hand in order to unlock the door and made her way up the metal staircase, reaching the carpeted hallway slightly below their offices.  
She felt an odd sensation on stepping across the carpet – it’s usual slightly crusty, nylon feel was more squidgy and giving beneath her sandaled feet.   
And then she felt the moisture, it was cold.

She glanced down and saw a darkening patch of wetness surrounding each footstep, combined with a squelching noise.

“Oh bugger!” she exclaimed.   
She went through to the office and tried the tap….no water, but also no leaks, which was good.

She paused and listened for signs of movement overhead…..silence.

Oh God, what if his flat is all wet and he slips when he gets up? 

She made herself breathe deeply and casually as she climbed the flight of stairs up to his flat.   
She vaguely noticed the temperature increased as she got higher….or was it just the heat from her groin at the thought of what had happened in her dream….Christ, if he was in the shower and she got a whiff of that shower gel she might fucking explode!

She knocked gently on the door, “Cormoran?” she waited for any signs of response; heard none and cautiously tried the door, which she knew would be left unlocked…..it always was…..he worked on the assumption that any burglar desperate enough to give his gaff a try deserved to be able to get in without a fight!  
Robin opened the door and bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the urge to groan at the sight before her.

Strike’s bed soft face was relaxed in deep sleep immediately infront of her, the thin sheet over him barely skimmed his hips, one hand rested lightly on his right thigh, the other was draped languidly above his head against the pillows and bed post, a flash of armpit hair that she wanted to sink her nose into visible – it was alarmingly similar to the kinky tied up pose against her headboard in her dream!

His chest looked so broad…..and hairy…..and inviting!   
He was making a sort of deep, throaty growl on each exhalation and seemed completely zonked to the world.  
She realised that her eyes were rather shamefully moving towards the hand above the sheet…..it was right next to his………was that a twitch?   
Shit!

She remembered what she’d come up to his flat for and went over to check his small shower room.   
There were no signs of leaks, and she turned on the tap to prove that his water flow seemed fine.  
She made her way back through and considered whether she should sneak out and pretend she had never been here, but instead looked at her watch and realised he badly needed to wake up!

He rolled over slightly, nuzzling himself into his pillow, and making a guttural groaning sound; the sheet was really barely covering his arse now and Robin realised she was standing on tiptoes, almost in an effort to see a little bit more of what was still covered!

She cleared her throat slightly, “Cormoran…….Cormoran, time to wake up,” she almost whispered.  
In response Strike inhaled and stretched under the covers, hugging into the pillow slightly more and mumbling, sleepily, “Mmmmmmm, no…..just stay in bed R’bin.”

Robin did a double take to the door frame!

Fuck!

Was he dreaming she was in bed with him?!

Double, massive fuck!

“Cormoran,” a little louder with a louder cough.

He inhaled deeply and loudly, rolling onto his stomach and lifting his ruffled, delicious looking head and half asleep, soft, green, almost disbelieving eyes to hers, “Robin?.......Hi!....What?” he stammered, dragging one splayed hand across his stubbled chin and tousled hair.

Robin forced herself to form coherent words, “There’s a problem with the water…..down in the office loo……I came to check if you were OK up here…..didn’t want you slipping….you know…..hopping to the shower…..anyway, I’ll go back down…..there,” she realised her eyes had started to wander across the expanse of his naked back and the slight hint of rather beautiful buttock cleft visible beneath the seriously tangled sheet.

“Fuckin’ plumber……bet he’s cocked something up fixing mine…..I’ll phone him.” Strike was still looking wistfully at Robin, his eyes seemed to be searching across her face for……..something….and was that a hint of a smouldering gaze….and a pursed pair of uneven, lightly curled lips?  
Both of which slightly distracted her from his barely concealed arse as she made her way down to her desk.

Twenty minutes later Strike thumped his way into the office, shouting on the phone, “……well there was no problem yesterday before you ‘fixed’ my water……so it seems a little coincidental that the water in the room directly below, on the same water supply is now fucked!” he raised his eyebrow and mouthed the word ‘Plumber’ in Robin’s direction.  
He continued to utter the odd word, grunt and ‘OK’ as he strolled out onto the landing, banged a bit with the lavatory and returned wielding a screwdriver, shaking his head and mumbling gruffly down the phone, “well I suppose I don’t have a choice do I….I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He tossed his phone across onto the sofa and rested his hands on the opposite side of her desk to her.   
Robin inhaled as smoothly as she could – it was quite a predatory pose and his looming masculinity was seriously disturbing her equilibrium….especially as she was still struggling with the images of him sprawled in bed…..looking completely edible.  
Oh fuck, she fancied him……big style!

“We’ll have to use my loo and water today. I’ve shut off the supply down here….the carpet’s soaked….” he slumped onto the farting sofa.  
Robin wrinkled her nose in consideration, “The dry cleaners has one of those carpet cleaner things for hire. It sucks up water….maybe I could sweet talk them into lending us one for a couple of hours?”  
Strike lifted his head from the sofa, “Bloody good idea! Take your phone and if they say yes give me a call and I’ll come get it.”

Two hours later the water soaked carpet on the landing had been squeezed within an inch of it’s life thanks to the kindly folks in the dry cleaners….Robin and Strike had been both amused and disgusted at the colour of the water which had been sucked out – Strike even joked that he hadn’t realised the carpet actually had a pattern on it!

Robin trotted up and down the stairs throughout the day to fill the kettle for them and clients, and to use Strike’s loo after lunch.   
He popped out to meet Wardle for a few hours; she daydreamed about his leaning across her desk…..she also did a little daydreaming about the sight of him in bed…..and tried to go over exactly what he’d uttered when partially awake.

Had he really told her to come back to bed? 

If so the implication was that she was already in bed with him…..in HIS dream!

Fuck!

That’d be a bit of a turn up!


	6. A step too far for her gusset!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of no water in the office.  
Robin is now past trying to subdue her mental images of Strike, especially after seeing him in bed.  
Strike finds out a little more about Robin's dream from lovely Nick.  
Both take rather long showers!

Strike met Nick in the pub for their Thursday night pint, which they tried to stick to unless work got in the way.

“So the dream is getting worse is it?” Nick smirked, downing a large gulp of his lager.

Strike shook his head, “Bloody hell, Nick……the fact that she was actually in my bedroom this morning really didn’t help matters!”

Ilsa had mentioned to Nick about Robin’s recurring dream, and he’d shared the fact that Oggy’s own thoughts had been wandering somewhat in the past few weeks.  
Nick sniggered at his friend, “Tell me you didn’t flash her the full morning wood!”

Strike shook his head, “Thankfully that was under control…..or at least it wasn’t visible! No….but, I think I might have said something!”

“Did she say anything?” Nick asked

“No…..it’s Robin…..she’s too polite….and professional....and not a pervert like her fucking partner!” he replied, downing a significant gulp of his beer.  
Nick raised his eyebrows and pulled a slightly wincing face.  
“What? What’s that face for?”

“I just happen to know something that Robin has shared with Ilsa……that might put a different spin on things!” Nick replied gleefully.

Strike regarded his friend quizzically, “Another pint?”

Over two further pints each Nick informed his old friend of Robin’s recent night time forays involving him; they discussed the possible implications of them getting together; the possible implications of not (mainly involving Oggy snapping one day in work and either exploding in a medically impossible manner via his flies, or pulling her across his desk in front of a client!) and what Strike could do about it all.

to Nick’s chagrin the decision appeared to be ‘do nothing, just in case it’s all bollocks’……both men left the pub feeling oddly deflated.

In Robin’s flat she was settling down for another fitful and unsatisfactory sleep.   
She wasn’t even trying to keep the images of Cormoran in bed at bay – it wasn’t possible, why should she try!  
At least she had the knowledge that she wouldn’t see him much the following day (he had several meetings not based in the office as some clients preferred)….and then there was the weekend…..it was supposed to rain…..maybe that would get it out of her system!

The alarm woke her as usual.  
As usual she was panting, sweating and tingling at the prospect of being impaled on Strike’s cock….and as usual the alarm had interrupted.  
She dropped her hand below the covers and slid the sticky moisture across herself, closing her eyes and shamelessly imagining Cormoran’s thick fingers there instead, bringing her to a gasping orgasm.  
Panting and satiated enough to start the day she crawled out of bed and showered, trying not to think about Strike getting out of that bed she’d seen him in the morning before……that chest, that little peek of bum…..he had quite a nice, pert little bum…..those hands……there was a definite twitch under the covers…..and a definite bulge (not an obscene tent pole, but a mound that had definite promise!)

She may have lingered in the shower longer than usual….and emerged somewhat more rosy cheeked than the temperature of the water would account for!

She got to the office and found the ‘Out of Order’ sign they’d hastily printed out still attached to the office bathroom.   
In the office she found a post-it with Strike’s familiar scrawl across it:

‘Plumber can only make it Saturday. Flat not locked. See you mid-afternoon. C’

She fired up her computer and noticed that he’d thoughtfully left the kettle full of water, together with the large, plastic jug he used for water when they all had a curry at his flat.  
The morning passed slowly for Robin.

Strike busied himself with appointments, shaking away the images of his dream involving Robin again the previous night……she was in his room, in his bed, writhing against him and begging him to make her cum!  
He’d woken up rigid and had an incredibly long shower to try to get himself in a fit state to consider putting on trousers……he didn’t want to wank over Robin….well, he did…..but with her present….not over a mental image of her…..it felt highly unprofessional….and unchivalrous to tug himself off while thinking about her.

He considered carefully his choice of adjective….chivalrous?!   
Where the fuck had that come from?   
This was 2019 not the fucking middle ages!   
Robin didn’t need him to be a knight in shining armour…..she needed him to be her work colleague!   
Although, she was having pervy dreams about him!

Robin popped out to grab a boxed salad for a late lunch and ate it at her desk, picking out the onion and dropping it into the bin, smiling lightly in the knowledge that if he was here Cormoran would have wolfed down each reddy, pink sliver.  
She made a cup of tea and realised that between herself and the couple of clients she’d had visiting the office during the morning the water was almost finished. So, she took the plastic jug up to Strike’s flat and filled it from his kitchen tap, leaving it on the counter top while she nipped to the loo.

Returning to the room which served as lounge, bedroom and kitchen in Strike’s flat she sighed and envisaged Cormoran’s large, slightly bear-like body sprawling in his bed.  
Without truly being aware of what she was doing she found herself sitting down on the edge of the bed, trailing her hand lightly across the plumped up, smooth pillow…..he really was immaculate at making a bed.

Army!

Oooh, Strike in the army…..now that was another image entirely and she whimpered, falling backwards, hair splaying out across his pristine bed covers.

God it was hot in his flat!

Christ she was horny!

If she rolled across and smelled his pillow would that make her a complete perve?  
Yeah….probably!

Fuck it!

She slipped off the thong style sandals she had worn (her usual sandals had got soaked the day before) squirmed up towards the pillow and allowed her head to rest, facing the slanted ceiling beams initially, before casually flipping over and burying her face into the overwhelmingly familiar and sexy scent that was ‘Strike’…..they could sell it by the bottle load!

She realised a fraction of a second too late that she really shouldn’t have……it was a step too far where her gusset was concerned and she felt a heat spreading through her knickers.   
Sighing made things worse, because she took an extra deep breath of the intoxicating aroma.

“Oh fuck….I am a shameless, horny…..oh God, fuck it!”

And she delved her right hand under the cotton shirt dress hem and beneath her soaked pants.  
It didn’t take her long to cum against her firm and insistent fingers and palm; she clutched her legs around her wrist, squeezing hard to draw the absolute maximum out of her orgasm and released her hand.

“Low point!” she murmured, shaking her head against the pillow, groaning softly and rolling over to face the wall.


	7. She's supposed to be having a nightmare!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormoran comes home to find Robin asleep on his bed.  
She starts to make some whimpering sounds which he puts down to far less enjoyable reasons that her kinky dreams.....and he comforts her (of course he does!)

Cormoran dragged himself back to the office at around 4.30pm; later than he’d expected to be fair, but he’d been treated to lunch with one of their better paying clients, so he wasn’t going to complain.   
The heat had ramped up as the day went on, and he was carrying his grey jacket, bundled into a rough sausage shape in one large hand.   
He could feel that he was sweating through his shirt and was silently thankful that the water in his own flat was now fixed.

He trudged up the metal staircase, pulling on the bannister rail more than usual and paused, sensing a lack of movement and noise from the office.   
He popped his head around the office door and called softly, “Robin? You here?”  
He assumed she hadn’t gone far because she’d left the office unlocked, and her computer was still on, although the screen was showing it’s swirling screensaver.  
Considering that she might have nipped up to the loo in his flat he went through to his office and switched on his own computer for the first time that day.  
He worked through a few emails that Robin had sent across to him earlier in the day. 

After half an hour or so he realised that he still hadn’t heard movement or any sign of Robin from his flat.  
He pulled his mouth into a perplexed shape and got up….if she wasn’t using the loo in his flat, where the fuck was she?  
It was too late for her to have popped out for lunch, and she hadn’t messaged him?

He reached for his phone and tapped out a simple text:  
‘Back in office. Where are you? C’

As soon as he pressed send he heard a soft buzz. He moved towards the noise and resent the message.   
The noise was slightly louder in the outer office, he opened the door to the office and tried again, listening carefully up the stairs….yep…..up in his flat.

He made his way up the narrow staircase and paused on the other side of his slightly ajar door.

“Robin?” he asked softly, pushing the door a little with the pads of his fingers.

He stared wide eyed at the shape of Robin, curled on her side, nestled into his pillow; almost hugging it to her chest.  
Her face was slack, soft and relaxed; her mouth was pouting but her lips slightly parted.   
Strike stifled a groan at the thought that his pillow would be covered in her perfume.

He spotted her phone, over on the counter top beside the plastic jug filled with water and pieced together what must have occurred….although how she had ended up lying on his bed was another issue!

His mind flicked back to what Nick had told him in the pub, but he didn’t dwell on it long as Robin had begun to twitch and make soft, whimpering noises.  
Her eyelids were flickering slightly, but she was clearly still in sleep mode.   
Her hands were clutching against the pillow, her legs and bare feet were stretching and almost paddling at the covers, and soft, almost kitten-like mewling noises were being emitted from her throat.

Strike’s feelings of arousal were quickly replaced by concern for her, assuming this was one of the nightmares she had previously told him about.  
He perched on the edge of the bed and reached out his hand to gently rest it against her upper arm, “Robin…it’s OK…..you’re having a dream…you’re safe,” and found himself stroking lazy circles with his thumb against her soft fabric of her dress.

Robin seemed to relax slightly against his touch, but continued to squirm; eyes closed, mouth making illegible sounds, legs scissoring slightly across the mattress and her hips rocking slightly.

Cormoran fought the urge to engulf her in his arms; his desire to comfort her was almost overwhelming his awareness that the last thing she needed was to gain full consciousness and have the arms of a large man surrounding her.

Instead he moved closer to her body on the bed, leaning across her on one arm, and resumed his soft, but purposeful caresses to her arm, shoulder, and before he realised it his hand was stroking the nape of her neck…..he noticed her hair was slightly damp with sweat, but it was soft across his hand, and he couldn’t seem to prevent himself curling one of the amber ribbons around his index finger.

“Robin…Robin, wake up now….it’s OK….you’re safe,” he repeated, watching her closely.

She arched her back away from him before rolling over and nestling her face against his chest, baring down on him.  
“Cor….mor…’n,” she purred, gasping slightly against his shirt buttons.

The man of that name froze and dropped his head to watch as the honey-gold head ground into him and he felt her lips seek out the small section of his chest visible above his open collar.  
“Robin?” he asked, softer, huskier, more cautious and definitely less confident as his brain rolled around the concept that she shouldn’t be nuzzling against him....not when she was having supposed to be having a nightmare!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK.....the next and I think final chapter is up shortly!


	8. I'm not asleep am i?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on.....what else could possibly happen given that I'm writing this?!?

Robin herself flailed out and slid one hand under the ‘bridge’ formed by his fisted hand resting on the bed, curling her fingers around his bicep and gasping, “So strong………so gooooood!”

Her head fell back and he was inches away from her….her eyelids were still closed, her lip gripped between her teeth and her breath was coming an shallow, breathy bursts.

He noticed that her other hand had slid down and was dipping beneath the hem of her dress, which had already ridden up as she writhed on the bed, “Just there……oh God, Cormoran, right there…..please,” she gasped, and her lips looked so delicious beneath him he threw caution to the wind.

Bending slightly he covered her parted lips with his own and sucked languidly on her lower lip, sliding his tongue against her upper one before feeling hers start to move back against his and her tongue flicked into his mouth.  
He was moaning in unison with her now as they kissed and kissed, hands caressing necks, shoulders, arms.

He broke away, conscious that Robin still appeared to be dreaming, he bent lower to whisper next to her ear, his warm, moist breath suddenly piercing through Robin’s dream…..  
…..that was new!

Something within Robin registered the heat and deep, masculine sound next to her ear.

She became conscious as she felt Cormoran’s lips suck gently on a spot on her neck; heard him mutter her name; and felt his hand tensing lightly around her waist.  
She sensed her own hand groping at herself and hastily dragged it away, finding instead the firm bulk of Cormoran’s back.

“We shouldn’t……..”

“Don’t go!”

“But we should stop and……….”

“I don’t want to!”

“This is really…..not….oh fuck…….it’s not…..”

“It is! It is so……oh God!”

“…but it’s totally not……..”

“I don’t care!”

And suddenly neither of them did. 

He caressed the tousled locks of amber hair from her face and stared down into the swirling pools of grey peering back at him.   
She silenced his parted mouth with her fingertips and a small shake of her head.

“I’m not asleep am I?” she queried and gasped at the minimal shake of his head.

“Do you want to be? I can leave,” he whispered softly, feeling her hand slide down his chest, her fingers snagging between the buttons at his stomach.  
“Don’t you dare go anywhere!” she hissed, tugging firmly on his shirt and causing him to finally buckle at the elbow and fall next to her on his bed.

Fuck!......they were pressed against each other rolling around on his bed!

Robin was almost brazenly wrapping her legs either side of his firm thigh, not really caring whether it was his full or partial limb….for her purposes she really only needed it rubbing against her clit!

Strike’s large hands were exploring her curvaceous arse, grasping and cupping the perfect roundedness, his fingers toying delectably between her legs, and she was arching back into the sensation as their mouths seemed determined to remain connected.

“God Robin……..I’ve wanted you for so long,” he hissed, finally dragging his mouth away from hers to press fevered, sucking kisses down her neck as his hands pushed up her outer thighs, smoothing over her cotton knickers and rubbing across the flat, firmness of her belly.

“God Cormoran, you have no idea…….,” Robin sobbed as he eased her away from his thigh and dipped his mouth lower to nuzzle against one of her breasts through the fabric of her thin dress and bra.

He panted slightly as he felt her nipple harden, “…actually Nick did mention something……oh fuck…Robin!”  
Her hand was snaking down and rubbing against the firm bulge in his trousers purposefully.

“Did Nick tell you all of the details?” she panted, arching her back to force his mouth back into contact with her aching breasts.

Cormoran chuckled slightly and moved himself further down her body causing Robin to groan and gasp slightly as she felt him slide his fingers under her pants, tugging them down firmly as she wriggled her consent.

Robin dragged her thin dress over her head as he dragged her knickers past her knees, trailing his hot tongue against her smooth thighs.  
His right leg twisted out awkwardly and a loud ‘thunk’ sounded as the metal rod banged against the wooden base of his bed.

“Fuck!” he mumbled, the breath hot and ticklish against Robin’s hip.

She giggled slightly, “You can take that off if it’s going to be an issue,” she smiled, raking her fingers across his scalp, enjoying feeling the softness of his thick curls at last.

His eyes fluttered closed slightly, and he didn’t manage to, or try to prevent a groan emanating from his throat.  
“OK…..are we doing this?” he received a nod and a pleading look from her, “Take that off,” he indicated her bra and she deftly unhooked it and kicked herself free from her pants before slipping under the bedsheet.

He removed his trousers and leg with admirable speed and focus, and managed to drag his shirt over his head without unfastening all of the buttons.   
Robin pouted from his pillow and hooked her index finger under the elastic of his boxers and whimpered for him to take the hint.  
He twisted around to join her under the cover as he slipped himself free of his underwear and crawled back down her gloriously soft smelling body until his mouth nestled against the neatly trimmed ‘v’ of hairs between her legs.

He ground his bristled chin against her and smirked as he pulled the sheet up to cover his head.

Robin’s tight mouthed ‘Ooohhh’ coincided with him easing her legs apart, exposing her soft, pinkness to him, and licking purposefully the full length of her. He moaned deeply creating a perfect vibration through her as he tasted her delectable and copious juices against his tongue.

“Oh fuck…….please God don’t let that fucking alarm go off now!” she wailed, delving her hands beneath the sheet to tangle into his hair.

He abruptly ceased what he was doing and a ruffled, panting head appeared peering up between her legs.  
“What? Is that some weird sex talk? ‘Cos tomorrow is Saturday….I am NOT setting my alarm!” he arched an eyebrow and curled his lips into the most ridiculously cute but wolfishly virile smile.

Robin returned a pouting grin, “Good!” she nodded.

“I’m planning on getting much better than a ‘good’,” he growled, maintaining his gaze on Robin for a moment as he slid one of his firm fingers inside her, before resuming his oral onslaught on her aching clit.

Nothing that emanated from Robin’s lips for the next few hours or so could conceivably be translated into a known language, but needless to say he more than made up for her unsatiated alarm calls….a weeks worth in one night!


End file.
